


And for that riches where is my deserving?

by Nary



Category: Benjamin January Mysteries - Barbara Hambly
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Damsels in Distress, Hair Brushing, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Moving In Together, Multi, Polyamory, Rescue, Secret Relationship, Shakespeare Quotations, Sharing a Bed, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 10:37:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: If Ben was honest with himself, he suspected that one day Hannibal might simply vanish from their lives.  He desperately hoped that this was not the day.





	And for that riches where is my deserving?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DestielsDestiny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielsDestiny/gifts).



It was Rose who first noticed Hannibal's longer-than-usual absence. "When was the last time he was here?" she asked Ben as he changed the baby.

Ben had to think about it, forcing his mind to work through the haze of sleep deprivation. Hannibal normally stopped in at their house every few days at least, but it had certainly been longer than that. "Last week," he said eventually. "He brought beignets on... Wednesday morning?"

Rose frowned. That meant it had been six days, an unheard-of amount of time for Hannibal to avoid their company. They were so preoccupied with baby John and keeping things running around their house that they hadn't even noted his absence. "And you haven't seen him since then?"

"No," Ben replied. "But maybe something has come up that's keeping him occupied..." Hannibal, despite his charm and gregariousness, could be a very private man about some parts of his life. Ben wondered if perhaps something from his friend's past had once again risen to trouble him - whether a person, or the ghost of addiction that always haunted him even though he'd laid it to rest before.

"Yes, or maybe he's lying dead in an alley somewhere," Rose said bluntly. It was true that Hannibal's choice of companions, habits, and living quarters often put him in dangerous situations, even aside from his perpetual ill health. "Please go and look for him?" she asked more gently, seeing the worry on her husband's face.

Ben passed the baby, newly clean and only slightly fussy, over to his wife and gave her a kiss while he was there. "I'll track him down," he told her, and she nodded with a smile borne of confidence in her husband's proven abilities in that department. They both loved Hannibal dearly, and to imagine him in some dire situation was troubling, doubly so because it was so frighteningly plausible. If Ben was honest with himself, he suspected that one day Hannibal might simply vanish from their lives. He desperately hoped that this was not the day.

Over the course of the day, Ben visited Hannibal's usual haunts, inquiring after him. Most everyone he spoke to reported it had been at least a few days since they'd seen him. His regular room above Kentucky Williams' saloon was uninhabited, and she was starting to grouse about kicking him out for not paying his rent. Most of his meagre possessions were still there - though not his fiddle. Hannibal would never have willingly left his fiddle behind, if he had taken it into his head to disappear for some reason. That it was gone gave Ben hope that at least, wherever he had gone, he had left voluntarily.

The most worrying thing, to Ben's mind, was that some of the musicians he performed with regularly said that Hannibal had missed a performance at Hugo Vernier's house outside the city two nights before. It wasn't so much the skipping of an engagement that concerned Ben - as much as he cared for him, he would admit that Hannibal was not always the most reliable person - but he knew that Hannibal had been counting on the money he would be paid for the evening's work. For him to give up such a ready and easy source of income suggested that something was more gravely wrong. Ben pressed on with his search with an increased sense of urgency.

Finally, as evening was drawing on and he was just beginning to think that he ought to go home and let Rose know he'd try again tomorrow (there was no possibility of him giving up entirely), Ben had a break in the case. Genevieve LeDuc, who ran a cafe across the square, had seen Hannibal on the evening of the ball, running late, having missed the cart that was taking the rest of the musicians to the big house. He'd headed off down the road on foot, carrying his fiddle. It had been growing dark already when he'd set out. 

Ben wavered. Night was falling now too - but if he could retrace Hannibal's path, maybe he would find some indication of what had happened to him. He sighed, knowing that Rose would be concerned if he didn't come home, but would be more concerned about Hannibal if he came home without him. He set off along the road that Hannibal had taken, keeping his eyes peeled for anything unusual.

The path was very dark once he was a short distance from the lights of the city. Willow trees overhanging it blocked much of the moonlight, and the ground was slick and muddy from recent rains. Ben had gone perhaps a couple of miles when he saw a turn-off from the main road that looked like it cut through more swampy ground to the west - but might have offered a more direct route to the Vernier's plantation. He hesitated, but tried to think like Hannibal - if he was late for a performance, he might have tried to take a shortcut. Ben turned off the main road and made his way carefully down the more treacherous path. 

He hadn't made it very far before he heard a faint sound - not an animal's night cry but a groan. He called a "Hello?" into the darkness, straining his ears to listen for any answer.

"...Ben?" came the weak voice in return. It was Hannibal, and he sounded awful. Ben picked his way carefully in the direction of the sound, and soon almost stumbled over Hannibal's violin case. His friend was lying in a hollow, all but concealed in the tall grass, but he waved a pale hand when he saw Ben. 

"What on earth have you managed to get into this time?" Ben asked, beginning to check him over with a physician's eye rather than a friend's. Hannibal was wet from the rain, shivering with cold, had blood clotted from a wound on his head that fortunately seemed superficial, and looked to have an ankle that was either broken or badly sprained. "This is surprisingly close to what Rose was afraid of," he added as he checked that he hadn't missed any more severe injuries. "She said alley, not ditch."

" _Aye, my lord_ ," Hannibal mumbled, " _safe in a ditch he bides, With twenty trenched gashes on his head; The least a death to nature._ "

Ben smiled at that - if Hannibal could quote Shakespeare, he couldn't be that far gone. "Come on," he said, "it's one trenched gash at the most - let's get you home."

The walk back to the city was slow and painstaking, as they made their way along the dark and hazardous route - Hannibal limping along with Ben supporting him, carrying his fiddle, even carrying _him_ for a time when Hannibal threatened to fall unconscious. It was past midnight when they finally stumbled up to Ben and Rose's house, exhausted, muddy, and extremely glad to see that Rose had left a light burning for them.

As it turned out, she had done more than that. She was still awake, and jumped up from the chair as they entered. "Oh, thank goodness!" she exclaimed, hurrying over to give each of them a kiss, mud or no mud. Ben let her guide Hannibal to the bed while he leaned wearily against the door, too tired for a moment to even take off his boots. He set Hannibal's violin down safely, and soon Rose returned and told him to stop standing in the doorway and come in, so he did so. 

Rose heated water to let them get cleaned off, setting some aside for some warm chamomile tea as well. Together they got Hannibal undressed, over his protests that he was fine, and Rose washed him while Ben got himself cleaned up. Then, bringing a candle over, he took a better look to make sure Hannibal's injuries weren't worse than suspected. His thin, pale body was bruised all over, livid with purple contusions, but the injuries to his head and ankle were, fortunately, not too severe. "It's a bad sprain, not a break," he said at last, having examined the swollen ankle and wrapped it tightly with a strip of cloth torn from a worn out petticoat that Rose had graciously donated.

"How did this happen?" Rose asked as she worked on washing and untangling Hannibal's hair. 

"I was making haste to the Vernier plantation, and took an ill-advised shortcut," Hannibal said wearily. "In the dark, on an unfamiliar path, I stumbled and, in trying to protect my violin, did greater damage to myself. My cries went unanswered and eventually I believe I fell unconscious for a time."

"You haven't had anything to eat in two days?" Rose said.

"It may be closer to three," Hannibal admitted. "In the day before my unfortunate misadventure, I don't believe I had eaten anything aside from some coffee..."

"Coffee does not count as food," Rose pointed out sternly. "I'll get you some bread and cheese, and you're to stay here for breakfast in the morning too." She smoothed Hannibal's hair, now clean and free from snarls and debris, and got up to go to the kitchen.

"You know you're always welcome here - for meals or anything else," Ben told him when they were alone.

"I know, amicus meus," Hannibal replied, keeping his voice soft so as not to wake baby John. "But there is talk, even on occasions when I don't spend the night."

"Let them talk," Ben said with more vehemence than he'd intended. "Hannibal, you could have died out there."

"Benjamin... I am going to die one day whether you permit it or not," Hannibal said gently, taking his hand.

"Yes," Ben agreed, "but we... we worried for you. We didn't know where you were. If you stayed here... if you _lived_ here... at least we'd have noticed you were missing sooner. You wouldn't have lain in a ditch for two nights. You wouldn't have been running late to a job you didn't even want, on an empty stomach, because you needed the money you should have spent on food to pay the rent on a miserable room above a saloon. You'd have a home." He fell silent, having said more than he'd really meant to, bracing already for Hannibal's refusal, like a blow.

"You are trying to take advantage of my weakened state," Hannibal said, but didn't immediately say no. He squeezed Ben's hand tightly. "Let me sleep on it, dear heart. _Sleep, that knits up the raveled sleeve of care..._ "

At that moment, Rose returned with the bread and cheese she'd promised, interrupting Hannibal's quotation by making him eat - which took little urging, given his hunger. When he'd had some food and drink, Ben and Rose each settled into the bed, one on either side of him, holding him gently so as to avoid inflicting any further pain on his poor, bruised body. They couldn't resist each pressing kisses to his lips, though, grateful to have him with them for this night, and for as long as they were allowed.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


End file.
